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The Cat Who Dreamed in Opal and Diamond - a TFKRS chapter

To Protect or Serve - a TFKRS chapter
fkrs_-_story_1_-_eisa_the_cat_burglar.doc
Keywords male 1108959, female 998727, fox 231819, cat 198377, human 99895, fantasy 24418, adventure 5374, medieval 1988
" Author's Note:

Thank you -very- much for downloading this instalment of Tales From the Kingdom of

the Red Sun. I hope you enjoy reading it! Our update schedule is twice weekly with primary

entries in the series occurring Wednesday and supplementary ones on Saturday. More information,

other entries and links to my other fiction can be found at  http://johnenright.info  I'll see you at the end for more notes!


Tales From the Kingdom of the Red Sun

Series 1

The Cat Who Dreamed in Opal and Diamond


Like many stories, this one does not begin during a dark and stormy night, if only because Eisa, the resident cat burglar, despised rain in her ashy fur, and because trying to perch oneself on a gabled roof in the rain made about as much sense as jumping from that roof to test whether or not the adage that cats always land on their feet had any merit.

No, Eisa was no fool despite what furs said when they thought themselves out of her considerable earshot. Eisa was always a step ahead and tonight would be no different. She smiled to herself as she flexed out her gloves, risking the momentary dislodging of her climbing claws for the satisfying crunch of straining leather. Her body suit made a soft crinkling noise as she resettled her claws into the holes in the copper roof.

The moon hung high in a sky of twinkling stars which reflected from elegant curves of Exter's most prominent landmark, Duchess Diqune's castle. Eisa glanced at the center housing from her perch on the single story estate, wondering. Hoping. Perhaps the Duchess would walk by an open window and she would get a glimpse at the most beautiful woman in the city.

After a moment Eisa frowned and looked back to the courtyard. This stop was just one more stop on the way to the Duchess's castle, she promised herself. She was getting closer with each job, now within the 'inner ring' of affluent estates that surrounded the castle. It wouldn't be long.

“One day.”

For now, she was stuck waiting on the signal from Michelle that the Testrine Family had left their urban palace for the evening. A game of wits, she decided. Wits and patience-- and hope that her spotter had not fallen asleep-- traits useful for any master thief.

“We wouldn't have these problems if you'd just join the Thieves' Guild, you know,” Michelle said from her hideout amidst the trash. The blankets that served as the coyote's camouflage made her suitably formless amidst the refuse from the estate.

Eisa scoffed, “and give up my independence? I think not.”

Across the courtyard, the carriage approached from the south with the clip-clop of  horse hooves, a sign of their impending meal ticket, and the brazen disdain the Testrine family held for the Duchess Diqune's dictum; only the truly powerful or completely insane dared enslave the Simpleau-- those animals lacking sentience-- within the city's limits. It was tasteless in polite circles and a crime against all of nature in others. Of course, some furs saw it as a way of ensuring the powerful Labor party within the city always had a job.

The dour looking otter that guided the carriage looked as though he had seen more than his fair share of hostility, judging by the swollen right eye and bits of fruit that stained the paint, he had probably tried to sneak through the warehouse district and gotten caught up by one of the local gangs-- or nature activists.

Such were the wages of working for the rich and powerful; boundless opportunity to make an idiot of yourself for their amusement or-- if you were really lucky-- pelted by crap by furs who didn't have jobs.

Eisa had to smile. The poor creature didn't have any freedom or self esteem, he probably traveled the whole of Exter on the rickety clapboard vehicle hoping someone would pay him to set the horses free so he could feed his family.  “Poor thing.” Eisa shook her head in sympathy.

“Shh.” Michell said softly.

A few moments later the heads of the Testrine family stepped out, dressed for a night on the town in gaudy robes of bright yellow and red. The two tigers mirrored one another and if not for the shock of black hair swept down the shorter one's shoulders, Eisa would have thought they were both men. No sane person would have worn something so 'festive' unless they wanted to advertise their availability to members of the same sex.

“Silly foreigners.”

“Shh!”

“Like they can hear me.”

As they boarded the carriage Eisa lowered herself against the roof and produced a vial of acid from her belt, removing the protective sleeve with her teeth. Just like in the pulp novels she had read, the sleeve came off with just a little pressure, however unlike the novels, the acid was clear instead of green. She wondered if she had spent her last steel bits on a defective batch as the carriage clopped down the path and onto the narrow street.

“One way to find out.” Eisa waited until the carriage was out of view before she leaned over and popped the cork with her thumb. “Ready?”

“Looks clear.”

A quick pour or a flitting drizzle, either one was supposed to produce the desired result, Eisa mused and looked at the vial. She shrugged and poured a circle. The acid burbled against the copper and in seconds she had a hole big enough to squeeze through. The temptation to dive in like an acrobat gnawed at her, after all professionals did that sort of thing all the time. A heist was equal parts style and utility.

Eisa dislodged her climbing claws and dived into the hole.

And muzzleplanted into an attic storage room floor not five heads from the roof.

“This? This is a bad omen.” The cat righted herself and crept up to the edge of the loft styled storage compartment, peering down on a richly decorated room with tons of open space, something common to northern cultures. Eisa had seen the type of floor plan before but never to the extent that was laid out before her now.

Three central pillars supported the roof at key intervals, all naked wood polished to a sheen. Fluffy pillows, plenty of bright throw rugs over gleaming wood floors and tapestries lining each of the walls. A little alcove to the far left of the main room lead to the kitchen and-- presumably-- to an indoor bathroom of some kind. Concerning, though, was the sparse nature of the furnishings. Not a single piece of jewelery or glassware to be found. Eisa squinted against the gloom. This was supposed to be a sure thing, where were the valuables?

She rolled off the edge of the loft and grabbed the lip of the attic on her way down, pivoting towards the frame of the nearest window. She barely managed to clear the tapestry, she threw her arms out and planted her hands against the frame. A smooth landing, perfect by any standard-- even if it was just by the tips of her toes. With a quick glance around the living area, Eisa found an exaggerated baseboard that doubled as a shelf for candles. The perfect way to traverse the room, Eisa decided.

The benefits of being born a cat and having spent most of her life travelling the world-- if one were to consider breaking into houses like this one 'travelling the world'-- was a remarkable sense of balance. Even if it meant fitting the cliché for a while, she could scuttle by on all fours and use her tail to maintain her balance across narrow ledges. Easy stuff, really.

Eisa prowled across the edge of the baseboard, eying the rest of the room with curiosity. “If I were valuables, where would I be if I belonged to tigers?”

After another circuit around the baseboard, she squatted down across from the main door, watching a trickle of dust flakes catch in slats of light from the windows. She scanned the dark, feeling increasingly dejected. She had saved for weeks to buy that acid and plan the heist but now. . .

Where were the valuables? Not so much as a glass bowl, a necklace-- even one of the stupid northern religion medallions that the family manufactured and sold-- not even the gaudy shawls that. . .

“Wait a minute here-- where are the clothes?”

In a flash of inspiration Eisa hopped to her feet and did another circuit of the room, feeling along the walls. It would be fitting for an expensive house lead by prominent nobles to have hidden storage. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? It was always the way it worked in the novels, she just hadn't been paying attention to what the environment was telling her.

It was possible that there was a secret panel under the rugs but the idea of a noble-- especially a northerner-- bowing to get their basics was absurd. And touching the floor? Urda only knew what kind of traps lay in wait for the daring cat burglar. Eisa eyed the ceiling, tightened her climbing claws and prepared to leap. It was solid enough, she promised herself.

Her leg muscles coiled as she squatted, dug her toes into her boots in preparation to launch.

Then she heard it.

A faint click.

Clicks in her occupation meant one of two things; a sprung lock or a sprung trap. Diametrically opposed, night and day, life and death, riches or poverty. Which would it mean for her? Had she stepped on anything?

SPRANG.

Someone a floor below her gasped in surprise. A male. He slammed into natural dirt with a dull thud. He was heavy framed with plenty of bronze daggers or possibly armor. Eisa jumped to the side as a string of curses filtered up through the floorboards from underneath the estate. A few seconds later, more voices joined in. More males this time and a female. Some asked if he was all right, another had mentioned 'finding it', the woman was strangely quiet.

Eisa's heart surged. They had beaten her to the punch! They had to be thieves guild, novices probably being sent on assignment to prove their skills-- they weren't ready for this horror show, nor were they going to take food from her mouth. Not tonight, not again. She couldn't get caught here but she couldn't just let them walk off with her score either. She frowned.

As the cursing continued, Eisa angled herself towards the nearest group of cushions. “Off the baseboard, hit the cushions, launch, pivot in mid air and catch the knot on the central pillar, hook the claw into the dividing wall and round into the kitchen.” No one trapped a kitchen and it was the only room separated from the rest of the house, it was her best bet on what limited time she had left.

She straddled down on her haunches, curled her toes. Jumped.

Cushions. Squishy, giving. Comfortable. She pushed off again, pivoting.

The outside of her left foot caught the trim.

The trim broke.

Eisa threw out her hand and slammed her climbing claw into the plaster wall but she was already falling.

“What's that?” A man said in the basement.

“Urda spare me,” the cat threw her other hand out and grabbed the wall with her climbers and dug the tip of her toe into the space where the trim had been. She finally managing enough traction to slow her decent when she heard a trap door in the kitchen open. Only seconds to decide what to do. She pondered-- another trip back across the room and she could get to the attic. “North, south, east or west, choose a path and do your best.” Or. . . She looked up at the ceiling. They'd never expect that.

Eisa pressed her foot down just so to trigger her boot's claws. Let the Guild send their minions into the grinder, the real professionals could take the high road. She launched off and hooked both sets of claws into the sturdy wood, swinging up and triggering her other boot and jamming those claws into the wood. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up against the ceiling and into the shadow.

The neophytes clamored in a second later brandishing batons, one of them carried a prybar that had a light dusting of plaster across the teeth. She had been right, the family had a secret vault under the house just like the stories had promised; a secret treasure trove. And there she was hanging from the ceiling instead of packing its riches away.

She wanted to sigh, instead she watched the group below. They split up and flipped through the house, tearing the rugs up and flipping the piles of cushions looking for only Urda knew what. It was the other cat, a long haired tabby with a tawny coat which stood out in the dark, who broke the silence with the most astute observation Eisa had ever heard from a Guild member: “we should be careful, there could be more traps.”

“Hmph,” the female squirrel scoffed. She was the youngest of the group with ruddy soot streaked fur and a piece of her right ear missing. “You saw the vault, they don't have anything here.” Her thick tail curled against her back protectively as she looked around. She could have been pretty if life had not gotten to her first, Eisa decided.

“Could be at one of the warehouses,” the cat looked around. “We've gotta find something to bring back.” His right ear twitched.

Eisa stopped breathing.

“But--”

The tabby raised a finger and cocked his ear towards Eisa. “Shh.”

“W--”

“Someone's here.”

The woman looked around carefully and let out another derisive 'hmph'. “No one's here, Ly. We watched 'em go.”

The strain of keeping her body pressed to the ceiling made Eisa's muscles ache, a burning sensation that started at her arms and quickly spread.

“I'm telling you. . .”

“Whatever, gimmie a hand with this rug. Its got a picture of Samien, maybe we can offload it to some Smoothies or something.”

Ly snorted in disgust. “You want to deal with the humans, you go right ahead. Then you can explain to Daxton where our score came from.”

“He said a value of fifty tin chips, didn't say where it had to come from. . . Besides, we can ignore the details. I don't think his enforcer is getting up any time soon.”

“Yeah, real shame about that,” Ly frowned at the rug as the woman bent to roll it up. “Someone should've said something.”

The woman finished rolling up the carpet. “Woulda shoulda, coulda,” she said sarcastically.

Sweat began beading up on Eisa's forehead as she angled her fingers forward as though it would relieve the pressure from her arms. This was not how it worked in the stories. Master thieves didn't dangle from ceilings while their scores were taken from them! Her gloves creaked. “Oh no.”

Ly snapped his head up, looking right in her direction. He squinted. “Ah--” was as far as he got before Eisa shoved forward, releasing her hand claws from the ceiling, she shoved off with her toes and tucked into a ball on the way down. The woman happened to be under her. They clattered to the ground and Eisa tumbled off her and vaulted upright, spinning to face the bewildered looks of the Guild members.

“Hey, hey! Remember this as the day you witnessed a professional in action--” she stuck her tongue out. But their expressions weren't bewildered. In fact, they looked pretty bored. “Hey, what's the problem?”

Ly smirked. “Real professional, yes. . .” He pointed at her. “I suppose you already knew that someone was behind you.”

“A clever ploy! But I'm not moved by petty threats and shadow plays. . . Now, if you'd direct me to the vault, I'll let you all be on your way.”

The woman groaned and rubbed her forehead. “You have no idea who you're messing with.”

“She's about to find out.” Ly crossed his arms.

“I'm so sure--” Eisa heard the creak of leather from behind her. Why hadn't she noticed it before? That pungent stink of Daxton's strawberry cigarillos , that overwhelming sense of something not entirely right in the world. It had to have been the muscle strain. She was better than this.

Something slammed into the back of her skull sending a spear of pain across her body. On her way into the abyss of unconsciousness, Eisa thought she heard someone say 'told you so.'

Not very professional at all.

A horribly sharp, tangy scent ripped her from the darkness and threw her into the waking world. She could feel the press of her tail under her body, jammed into a wicker chair. Something smelled of strawberry. Eisa coughed and groaned.

“There you go,” a woman spoke. She sounded familiar.

“Excelent!” A gruff voice said. That voice she knew. It sent her heart into her throat. “Rise and shine, kitten.”

Defense one: Bravado. “Eisa's not here. . . But if you want to leave a message, her secretary would be happy to get back to you.” Eisa didn't dare open her eyes just yet. “Think, think, think.”

Daxton took a deep drag of his cigarillo and Eisa could imagine the scrawny old leopard's eyes on her, his broad brow knitted in thought. Something metal clicked against the wood of a desk. A dagger, no doubt. “I told you what would happen if I caught you muscling in on our scores, kitten. . .”

Eisa swallowed.

“Now let's have a look at those pretty green eyes. . . I want to decide which one I'll be putting on my mantle.”

Defense two: Negotiating. “W- Before you do that, can I look on you one last time with depth perception?”

He chuckled. “Go right ahead.”

The old male hadn't changed much in the last year, a little grayer in coat and the brown braids in his hair had taken on a darker tint, the scars along his cheek from where he had caught a spike trap in his youth still made him look every bit as rugged as she remembered.

Eisa shifted in her seat and forced a smile. “You look great, boss.”

“Boss. . .” He snorted, picking his nails with his traditional copper dagger. It caught the flickering light from a candle on the desk that separated them. “There was a time when I wanted that to be the case, do you remember?”

“It still could be!” The fine art of negotiating, Eisa style, was lying through ones canines in hopes of staying just one step ahead. Of course, that took faith that one's lie was strong enough to pass basic scrutiny. “I was actually going to approach you after this score, I just wanted a tribute-- a peace offering.”

“That so?” Daxton's expression remained stoic as he turned his hand around to consider his claws. “Go on.”

“I spent my last steel bits to buy a vial of acid so I could find a piece of glassware, you know, something fitting of your. . . er. . . grandiosity?”

The old leopard's eyes turned on her. He said nothing.

Eisa swallowed. “Your office would look great with. . . a fruit bowl?”

He casually turned the dagger over in his hand, taking the tip between two fingers and balancing it there. Watching her all the while.

She fidgeted. “Honest--”

“So your generosity has now extended into the realm of old acquaintances, has it?”

“Acquaintances? I-- I liked to think of us as friends, mentor and student, as it were! I learned a great deal from you!”

Daxton let out a low rumbling chuckle. “You did, didn't you? You always were the best pupil. . .”

Eisa dared to relax just a little.

Without raising his voice, he clenched the dagger in his hand. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh--” She bit into her lower lip. “And!” she tried to buy time. “Think-- north, south, east-- East!”

“Your hand.”

The woman behind Eisa stepped up beside her and grabbed her hand. She struggled with Eisa to get it up on the desk even as Eisa began rambling as quickly as she could. “I found someone on the docks! They have a warehouse full of raw iron from the east and I wanted to share the score with you! I can't do it myself but with your help--” the woman grabbed Eisa's arm and slammed her hand down. “Ah! Hey, not so rough!

“I have a contact coming and-- and I just need a couple days!” Eisa continued, fighting against the pain in her arm. “There's plenty for all of us to share!”

The squrriel grabbed two fingers and yanked on Eisa's hand. “Give me--”

“Hold on.” Daxton waved the woman off. “Go on, kitten. . .”

“Yes! So! T- The contact from the east should be here in a couple of days whereby upon I'll meet them and find out where this warehouse is! They're housing iron for some big project the Duchess is putting into action!”

“That right?”

“Yes!”

“And this contact is expecting you, is he?”

“Yes!”

“I see. . .” Daxton took the dagger across his hands and tapped the flat of the blade against his palm, considering. “Well that puts you in a rather fortunate position, doesn't it?”

“It could benefit us all!”

The old leopard smiled a little. “A fortune in iron, just sitting there, ripe for the taking. . . Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?” He asked his associate.

“Mmhm.”

“It's not, though, you know I'd never lie about something like that.”

“You put me in a strange position, kitten. . . On one hand, if I believe you and you just escape, I'm out a beautiful center piece for my mantle and the iron. However, if I believe you, I'm stuck wondering just when—or if-- I can get the resources together to move that kind of haul.”

“I. . . might be able to help with that?” Eisa ventured. “I'm sure we could hire a few freelance laborers. So long as they get paid, they won't care what's being moved.”

“Aha, yes, good thinking. You always were the clever one, little Eisa.” Daxton smiled sympathetically. “My, that is something special, isn't it. . .”

She was gaining ground. Eisa tried to sit forward. The woman grabbed her.

“Ah, now now, she's a guest. Let's not be rude.”

The woman looked at him.

Eisa was floundering now but she kept her composure. “It'll be the score of a lifetime!”

“I'll tell you what, kitten. . .” Daxton dipped his hand into a desk drawer and removed an hour glass made completely of glass with ornate curls at the top and bottom to keep it upright. It was a masterwork of design and craftsmanship, immeasurably valuable in Exter. “You have fifteen seconds. . .” He turned the hourglass over and set it down, his voice was cold as stone. “Convince me.”

" Author's notes:

Well that was pretty fun, huh? I'm curious what's going to happen next! So, here's how this is going to work. . . There're going to be three contiguous stories running, each with their own story headings, arcs and resolutions. They will be tied together by the end of the first series (some more obviously than others) and I will make them available as individual stories in addition to a complete 'volume' on my website to download in PDF form, they're meant to be read in any manner you so choose, so please don't fret.

You can find a link to my website in my profile (I think.) Or I will edit this post to reflect it once I get it squared away.

Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I will see you Saturday for our next instalment where we--. . . Do stuff and things. Seeya Saturday!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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To Protect or Serve - a TFKRS chapter
The Cat Who Dreamed in Opal and Diamond Installment 2
In the Kingdom of the Red Sun lies a city called Exter Diqune, ruled by the fair and beautiful Duchess Tamira Diqune, it is home to thousands of furs and humans. As a hub of trade and prosperity, it attracts those with burning ambition to better themselves and those who are looking for a place to disappear. Underneath the pristine facade lies a hot bed of political intrigues, scandals and shady back room deals that could topple the city and shift the balance of the entire Kingdom.

    An unlikely meeting between a cocky cat burglar and a foreign refugee leads to adventure, heroism and poor decision making as the two are forced on the run from the local crime syndicate.

    "Tales" is a twice weekly serial with three contiguous and intertwined stories, each with their own story headings, arcs and resolutions. They are all available as individual stories in PDF form (updated with each new installment) and in a complete 'volume' form for each character. A novella including all the stories will also be made available upon completion of all three plot lines.

Keywords
male 1,108,959, female 998,727, fox 231,819, cat 198,377, human 99,895, fantasy 24,418, adventure 5,374, medieval 1,988
Details
Type: Writing - Document
Published: 10 years, 7 months ago
Rating: General

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